A Thanksgiving
by MOLTENblue
Summary: Sometimes the most meaningful thanks are wrought by strangers. AkuRoku.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own any characters from Kingdom Hearts or Final Fantasy.

- - -

**A Thanksgiving**

- - -

The train car was silent, seeing as the holiday chaos had ended just the day before. For the two or three people who were on the train, this meant they would reach home just in time to get a nap in before Thanksgiving dinner as opposed to having an extra day to spend with their families. The sacrifice was worth the silence to some people.

For Roxas Strife, though, this wasn't a sacrifice at all; rather, it was a blessing. He reveled in the silence of the train, drinking it up like a god would ambrosia before he hit the chaos of his brother's house. The thought of so many people crammed into such a tiny place made him sigh and wearily slam the textbook in his hands shut. Less than an hour remained before he would have to endure the mindless banter of brothers, cousins, uncles, girlfriends, boyfriends, and more, and he did not want to spend that precious time reading about Freud's fixation on sex or Jung's insane dream analyses. He wanted to sleep.

The entrance of another passenger distracted him, however. The man was being escorted by an employee of the train line and reeked of what Roxas assumed to be whiskey and cigarettes. _Great_, he thought.

"Sir, just take a seat here and stay here until the end of the trip," the employee said firmly. "Your baggage will be waiting for you when you get off."

With that, the employee shuffled off into another car, leaving Roxas alone with the seemingly inebriated man. Roxas gave the man a wary look, noting his tall and lanky form and bright red hair. A grimace formed on his face when the man decided to sit right next to him.

"Afternoon," the man said slowly. He smiled lopsidedly and Roxas was suddenly reminded of a dog leaping contentedly through some emerald yard.

"Hello," Roxas returned curtly.

For the next few moments the only sound that filled the car was the train flying over the tracks. The speed stretched out between the two, its nonexistent crescendo ringing in Roxas' ears as he found himself staring at the two tattoos under the man's eyes. They were reminiscent of tears and Roxas suddenly wondered their meaning.

"Where y'off to?" the man asked.

"Twilight Town."

Silence.

"M'too. Hate th'lace."

"Yeah."

And that was that.

- - -

Once he walked into a place he had once called home, Roxas had all but forgotten the man and his tattooed tears. How could someone remember something as brief as another passenger when there was stuffing to be passed, boyfriends to be met, and cousins to be avoided? No one even asked about his journey until dinner was all said and done and naught but crumbs remained in the pie tins.

"Well, how was the ride over?" Roxas' brother asked, spiky blonde hair gleaming in the ordinary kitchen light. Loud, drunken laughter echoed in from the den and Roxas shrugged, not even looking up from the plate he was scrubbing. The only coherent thought that passed through his mind was of fire red hair, which caught him off guard enough to make him lose his grip on the plate he was scrubbing. Thankfully, Leon's voice distracted Roxas' brother from this fault.

"It's a train ride, Cloud," the man laughed, taking the plate out of the sink and flicking water at Cloud. "How do you think it was? C'mon, Roxas, let's stop scrubbing dishes for a change and make Sora and Riku do it."

Roxas laughed for the first time that night before abandoning his rubber gloves and scrubber in exchange for a wine glass and bad conversation. After hearing about three stories detailing just how drunk Kairi had gotten "that one night", at least five stories about just how loud Demyx and Zexion were when they did it, and no less than a dozen stories about "that one guy Selphie hooked up with once," he had had enough.

"I'm leaving," Roxas announced suddenly, setting down his drained wine glass and booking it to the backdoor. Unbroken, the chatter continued. He tied a grey scarf around his neck and pulled a worn, black coat on over it before giving the soaking Riku and Sora a glare and leaving. Only Leon and Cloud noted his absence; they did not worry.

- - -

It had been years since Roxas had set foot in a Twilight Town pub, but he could not remember why. From what he could remember they were quite homey, warm, and cheap, and once he reached the bar he was glad to see his memory served him well. The bartender greeted him with a merry "Happy Thanksgiving," chuckling when Roxas glared in return.

"Not a good one this year, eh?" asked the bartender–or Cid, as the many certificates of approval proclaimed.

"There's never been a good one," replied Roxas bitterly, sitting in the nearest seat and ordering an Irish coffee. He stared at the mahogany bar for a long while before looking up to accept his drink. Red invaded his vision.

"He says it's on him, kid," Cid laughed. "I'll be in the back watchin' some television if you need anything."

He disappeared into some unseen door, leaving Roxas to stare across the bar in confusion. Green suddenly replaced red and for a moment, he felt the brush of soft, green grass against his imagination.

"Aren't you a little young t'be drinkin'?" asked the man with that same lopsided grin. Heat rose to Roxas' cheeks.

"I'm twenty one, thanks," he muttered before taking a sip of his coffee. He bit down a grimace as the liquid seared his tongue so much the alcohol was nonexistent.

"Don't look it. Ah, whatever," shrugged the man. "Gonna thank me for that? Isn't everyday I put down a few bucks for another person."

Silence.

"Well fine," Roxas heard the man mumble. Then, "The name's Axel. A-X-E–"

"I can spell."

A moment of shocked stillness stretched out between the two and Roxas smugly noticed that he had tripped Axel in midstep. It didn't take long for him to regain his stride, though.

"Now, now, now, you just don't go 'round cuttin' people off in the middle of their introductions. Didn't anyone teach you manners?" Axel scolded. An amused smirk spread across his face. "Why aren't you with your family eatin' turkey, and stuffing, and mashed potatoes, and yams, and pie, anyways?"

"I'd ask the same to you."

This time minutes stretched out between them, minutes in which Roxas idly sipped his coffee and Axel boredly glanced at the television playing in the corner. When he realized that this was the most exciting thing that would probably happen over his Thanksgiving holiday, Roxas spoke.

"I'm Roxas," he muttered. "And I'm not at home eating because we already ate."

"Then why aren't ya partakin' in some good old family reminiscence?"

"Because family reminiscence consists of talking about 'that one time when so and so got drunk,' how loud my brother is when he has sex with his boyfriend, and the hook ups my sister puts her friends up to," answered Roxas with a bitter roll of his eyes. "I'd rather just get drunk and pass out than listen to their mindless chatter."

"Blunt, but honest. I like that in a person," Axel announced after a moment of chuckling. The sound eased the edges of Roxas' eyes, a small detail that failed to escape Axel's notice. "I ain't at home eatin' with the fam because there isn't a family to be eatin' with. We've never been ones to gather 'round the same table and eat food in a civilized manner. Plus, I think my brother's in jail or something somewhere."

This time it was Roxas' turn to laugh. When the sound died, his expression turned to one of seriousness. "So you didn't have turkey or stuffing or anything?" he asked, eyebrows drawn. When Axel shook his head Roxas shook his head. "Well, come over and get some. It's my thanks for the coffee."

"Nah, I don't want to impose on your folks," Axel returned. He was suddenly insecure, shy. It took a moment for Roxas to realize that the man was in nothing more than a pair of thoroughly ripped jeans and a dirty white t-shirt.

"I'll go get you some. Just stay here, okay?"

Axel stared at the boy as he shuffled out of the bar, dumbfounded by the warmth he had glimpsed in those ice blue eyes.

- - -

When Roxas returned, Axel was gone. He was panting from the trip, his hands laden with plastic bags and his limbs shivering from the cold. Cid was at the bar once again.

"Oh, hey again, kid," Cid called. "Your friend left a few minutes ago. I think he turned left."

Normally, Roxas would have shrugged and walked back home, opting to go to bed rather than seek out a random stranger in the cold. Tonight, though, something with in him sparked and demanded he finish what he had started. Without another word to Cid, Roxas turned and bolted to the left, catching glimpse of red hair just long enough to get his bearings.

It wasn't long before Roxas was in earshot of the man and when he called his name, green eyes flashed in his direction.

"Oh, hey again, kid," he greeted. Confusion stretched between them as Axel looked from the bags in Roxas' hands to the foggy air pulsing out of his mouth. Realization hit. "I didn't think y'actually meant to–"

"Just go to wherever you live–I'm cold," Roxas snapped. They shuffled off down icy paths, warm grass catching sight of the icy glacier creeping behind it whenever it could manage.

- - -

Axel's apartment was a maze of cigar boxes and whiskey crates, but Roxas didn't care; it was warm. He insisted that the food be heated up right then, that he was hungry and Axel needed to eat Thanksgiving dinner on Thanksgiving. Axel found no reason to argue otherwise and watched in amazement as the still stranger made his kitchen home. In what felt like seconds a stack of whiskey crates had been formed into a makeshift table and adorned with food. Silence encompassed the scene as the two ate.

"Delicious," Axel muttered after his plate was clear. He looked up to see that Roxas was already stacking up the dishes and taking them to the sink. "Uh, don't worry about those; a guest doesn't need to clean up a host's house."

A grateful smile washed over Roxas' face and Axel blinked, noticing that silence seemed to come as a prepackaged addition with the kid. When Roxas proceeded to begin cleaning the dishes, though, Axel gave a confused and exasperated laugh; in a moment, both were scrubbing at the dishes with a mutual fervor.

"My sister is obsessed with Tupperware," Roxas muttered after the first two or three dishes. Axel laughed, the sound sparking a conversation that would last for far longer than either could imagine. Merry banter filled the apartment and for the first time in a long while Axel remembered what it is like to celebrate with family.

- - -

When Roxas awakened it was not to the irritating sound of his sister announcing cinnamon rolls; nor was it to the grimace-forming sound of a bed creaking from the room next door. Rather, it was to the sound of silence; or at least to the sound of near silence. It was a moment before he cracked open his eyes, the light revealing the world to him. Confusion struck him when he saw a lone whiskey box in front of him, but then he rcalled the sound of sincere conversation, the taste of some pristine and aged wine, and the meaning of marks under merry green eyes. When those same green eyes greeted him from less than a foot away, he jumped.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there," Axel chided, a lean arm stretching out to protect Roxas from gravity. "Don't want to greet the mornin' with a bump on the head, eh? Besides, it's only six; go back to sleep."

The words cleared a fog deep in Roxas' mind and when he blinked clarity filled his vision. Alongside conversation, wine, and meaning he recalled something he can only label as home. Some soft warmth–the warmth of spring grass taking over some ancient glacier–surrounded him and as his eyes shut two words rang between hearts: Thank you.

- - -

**AN**: Uhhh. So. I don't really know where this came from? Slightly inspired by the fact that Thanksgiving with my own family never truly feels like a thanksgiving; rather, it feels like more of a chore. And also from the fact that I find the most thanks I ever want to give goes to complete strangers. Happy Thanksgiving.


End file.
